


How To Save A Life

by IsaWritings



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3661350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsaWritings/pseuds/IsaWritings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Kurt becomes a police officer and loves his job. He is eventually assigned to a case involving someone hiring a hitman and goes in undercover with another officer. He never expected the suspect to hand over a picture of his fiancé, Blaine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those who haven't noticed yet: I used to check the BPOTD page very regularly. The summary is the prompt.   
> I have to admit I changed some of the elements of the prompt, but they're fairly small changes that I felt made more sense in the overall plot.
> 
> Fair warning: anything about the agency (DEA) mentioned in the story comes from information I have found on the Internet, so I can't guarantee that it's entirely correct. Same goes for the way they operate in the story. I have no idea what their guidelines are on situations like this, so you'll have to forgive me if the story doesn't seem believable. I hope you'll like it anyway.
> 
> (Also: the story has nothing to do with the song that has the same title as my story. I'm just really bad at finding a decent title and this seemed fairly okay.)
> 
> Enjoy!

**How To Save A Life**

 “Almost there,” a slightly crackling voice came through the headphones. Listening to the voice were several DEA Special Agents holed up in a rather small van, all wearing bulletproof vests and keeping their weapons close in case things went wrong.

“Okay,” Andrew 'Andy' Roberts, team leader of the unit active in this operation, said. “Phil, are your guys ready?”

“Yes, sir, they're ready. We're good to go once you give us the signal.”

“Good. Let's just hope this works out as planned and we can make this a clean bust.”

On one of the computer screens, a green dot suddenly stopped moving.

“Showtime,” Kurt Hummel – aka Mike Williams, aka the agent who was sent in undercover and now posed as a hardened drug dealer – warned via the little microphone hidden in his watch.

“Good luck,” Andy muttered, even though he knew Kurt couldn't hear him through the one-way communication device.

He held his breath when the connection as well as the dot on the screen disappeared completely while Kurt was searched for bugs. A few minutes later, the signal reappeared and a collective sigh of relief went through the van.

The intended target of the op was a drug lord who had been released from prison two years back after a sentence of eighteen years and who seemed to have fallen right back into his old habits. It had taken the DEA a while to track him, but ever since they had found his trail, they had been gathering evidence against him in the hope that they could make a solid case against the criminal and lock him up for good this time. They already had a decent amount of evidence, but it wasn't enough. What they really needed to get him off the streets permanently was to catch him red-handed.

Which is why they had created a brand-new alias for Kurt as a ruthless drug dealer who was known for eliminating the competition if necessary, but who had so far never been caught yet. A cover like that was crucial when dealing with guys like Paul Luttman. Kurt knew the man was not only extremely careful but also very dangerous and didn't object to having whoever stood in his way taken out. Therefore, he was also aware that if Luttman and his accomplices found the hidden bug or discovered his real identity, he would be dead in a flash.

“Mr Williams,” Luttman greeted him as Kurt was led into the criminal's office and shook the offered hand. “Thank you for coming. Have a seat.”

“Mr Luttman, I've heard a lot about you,” Kurt said pleasantly, sitting down in one of the chairs.

“Have you?” Luttman's already fake smile instantly froze. “What did you hear?”

Kurt knew from the man's icy tone that he had to be careful with what he said next.

“Word on the street is that you are looking to hire.”

“Very to the point.” Luttman leaned back in his seat, seeming satisfied with Kurt's answer. “I like that.”

“I'm too busy a man to waste time on pleasantries, Mr Luttman. So if you don't mind telling me why you've asked me here?”

“Of course. The rumours are true; I am looking for a business partner.” He opened a drawer and took out an envelope, which he laid on the table. “I was told you were the best man for the job.”

“I'd be happy to offer my services. As you might have heard, I can offer you the best deals out there.”

Luttman was silent for a few moments, scrutinising Kurt closely and making the latter feel uncomfortable, although he tried his best to hide it.

“That is actually not what I had in mind,” the drug baron finally stated. “Or at least not yet.”

Kurt frowned in confusion. Even though their informants had never said it in so many words, they had been told that Luttman needed someone to make his deals for him. After all, using middlemen was how he had managed to stay out of prison for so long before he had been arrested. That first time, his capture had been a matter of luck, of right place right time. But Luttman was even more careful now; he would never allow the same mistake to be made twice.

“Then what did you have in mind?” Kurt asked cautiously. “You do know what my profession is, don't you?”

“Yes, of course I do. And that's also why I asked for you. But there is something else I need you to do first. Consider it a test. If you pass, you're hired.”

Kurt nodded, making it look like he had to think about it. He knew that, whatever he had to do, the DEA would find a way to make sure he passed. But he couldn't seem too eager, either, for fear of arousing suspicions.

“Okay,” he said after a while. “What do I have to do?”

Luttman smiled, almost genuinely this time, and slid the envelope over the table towards Kurt. The undercover agent opened it curiously.

Thanking his lucky stars for his talent for acting – which had almost landed him a place in NYADA before he had decided that that little world was way too competitive and offered too little chance of success for him –, he only just managed to keep his face in check when he looked at the picture that he had just pulled out of the envelope. He knew any kind of reaction could get him killed, so he tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible when he met the gaze of the man sitting opposite him.

“He's a problem. I want you to take care of it.”

“Who is he?”

“That doesn't matter.”

“I beg to differ,” Kurt argued, trying to stay calm even as he felt his heart go a mile a minute. “I'm going to need more than a picture if I'm going to do this.”

“I take it you'll accept my proposition, then?”

Kurt slightly inclined his head, knowing he couldn't back down now, not when they had finally gotten this close.

“Very well. His name is Blaine Anderson, he's thirty-one years old and, according to my sources, he teaches Historical Musicology and Choral Ensemble at NYADA. His address is unknown, but I'm sure that won't be a problem for you, will it?”

“Not at all,” Kurt assured, inwardly freaking out as his last shred of hope – that maybe, possibly, it was someone else in the picture, a lookalike – was torn away and he had to accept that it really was his fiancé in the picture.

In the van, Andy Roberts and Sam Evans were staring at each other, both sporting identical shocked expressions.

* * *

Blaine was startled out of his angry muttering when he heard a loud knock on the door. He looked up from the paper he had been marking. It was one of the worst papers he had read in a while and, at NYADA, that was saying something, considering how hard the students there worked. For the past hour, he had been doing nothing but correcting the many spelling and grammatical mistakes and even some historical inaccuracies the paper contained. It was such a disaster that it had managed to bring out his inner “crazy person”, as Kurt liked to call it. Apparently, when he was particularly disappointed, he would start muttering to himself, commenting on the paper or test out loud without realising it. Kurt, of course, thought it was adorable, although to others, it might make him look like he was crazy.

Blaine stood up with a sigh and headed for the door, wondering who it could be. Most people he knew were at work and Kurt had some major bust that day, so it was way too early to be him, especially if he still had to finish his paperwork to wrap the case up.

“Sam? Hey. What are you doing here?”

Blaine knew Sam was in the same unit Kurt was in. Kurt and Blaine had actually been the ones to urge Sam to try the DEA training after many years of drifting from one job to another. And it had paid off. Sam had graduated with flying colours and had, with a good word from Kurt, been placed in Andy Roberts' team.

Given that a major case was hopefully coming to a close that very day, Blaine knew Sam had no reason to be standing at his door.

“Hey man. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure.”

As soon as the door was closed, Sam started looking around as if he were searching for something.

“Um... What–”

Blaine shut up abruptly when Sam laid a finger against his lips, urging him be quiet.

“I thought I'd come and say hi,” the agent said, falsely casual. “I wanted to see if you felt like hanging out.”

While he was talking, Sam walked past Blaine to the table and grabbed a pen and a piece of paper, holding it out to him when he was done writing.

'Checking for bugs. Act normal.'

Bewildered, Blaine followed the instruction.

“Um, sure, okay, that'd be great. I was actually grading papers, but I guess they can wait.”

With a wave of his hand, Sam motioned for him to continue talking as he took apart Blaine's phone and the landline and looked behind the TV. So Blaine did, giving a much too detailed account of all the errors he had encountered so far – except for the spelling mistakes since he knew that that was still a sore spot for his best friend – while Sam hummed from time to time as if he were listening.

Finally, he emerged from the bedroom and turned his attention to Blaine, whose mind by now had conjured up several frightening scenarios as to why Sam had showed up like this and where Kurt might be – who, for the record, did a sweep of their apartment every few weeks.

“It's clear. I didn't find any bugs.”

“Sam, what the hell is going on?” Blaine exploded. “What are you doing here? And where's Kurt?”

“Dude, calm down, okay? I'll explain everything, but I needed to make sure no one was listening in.”

“Okay, it's safe, right? So start talking.”

“Um...,” Sam looked around uncomfortably. “Maybe you should sit down, dude...”

“Sam!” Blaine exclaimed warningly.

“Okay, fine. So, there's no easy way to say this, so I'll just... say it. … Someone's out to kill you.”

A tense silence fell as Blaine froze and went several shades paler.

“I'm sorry, dude,” Sam said softly, taking Blaine by the arm and leading him to the couch. “We just found out today.”

“I don't understand,” Blaine managed. “Why?”

“We don't really know. I was actually supposed to ask you if you knew someone who might want you dead.”

Blaine shook his head.

“You sure?” Sam frowned in thought. “Does the name Paul Luttman sound familiar to you? He's the guy that hired the hitman...”

“Paul Luttman?” Blaine's head shot up. “As in drug baron Paul Luttman?”

“Yes? You know him?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He hesitated, wondering how much he was allowed to tell his friend. Then again, that same friend was a trained DEA Special Agent who could help prevent his untimely death.

“How much do you know of Luttman's trial?”

“Um, I know the DEA never had enough evidence against him until twenty years ago, when two bystanders witnessed one of his deals and he was finally arrested and tried based on their testimony. Andy always says they got lucky back then.”

Blaine nodded.

“My dad and I...,” he started hesitantly. “We were on a road trip. I was eleven at the time. We got lost. Somehow, we ended up in some desolate place. My dad got out of the car, said he was going to ask this group of guys for directions. He told me to stay put, but I didn't want to be left behind, so I followed him out. As we got closer, we saw what was happening. It was simply a matter of wrong place wrong time.”

“Wait...” Sam looked at him, eyes wide, shock written plainly on his face. “You and your dad were the two witnesses?”

Blaine nodded again.

“And after my dad's... accident last year–”

“– you're the only witness left,” Sam finished. “Your dad's accident...”

Blaine could almost see the wheels in his friend's brain turning.

“What? You don't mean to say...”

Sam fixed him with a worried stare.

“Maybe your dad's death wasn't an accident.”

Sam's grim statement was met with a silence that seemed to go on forever.

“No,” Blaine mumbled weakly. “It... It was a car accident. People die in accidents all the time... Sam...?”

Sam quickly enveloped his friend in a tight hug, hoping to comfort him.

“It's okay, it'll be okay.”

“I don't want to die, Sam.”

Sam could barely hear Blaine's muffled reply.

“You won't. We'll protect you. I promise. I won't let anything happen to you.”

Several minutes later, Sam gently pulled away.

“Listen to me. I need you to pack a bag. Some clothes, things you need, medication, stuff like that. Make sure it's enough for a few days. We're going to take you to a safe house.”

“Okay,” Blaine whispered, then went to the bedroom.

As soon as he was gone, Sam pulled out his phone.

“Andy? I've got some important information on the case.”

By the time Blaine made his way back into the living room, Sam had just finished making the necessary phone calls.

“You ready?”

Blaine looked around numbly.

“I think so.”

His eyes fell on the papers he had been marking seemingly an eternity ago. On impulse, he gathered them and shoved them in his bag, knowing it would give him something to do. As he reached for his laptop, Sam stopped him.

“You can't take that. Actually, you should leave your phone too.” Seeing Blaine's incredulous expression, he shrugged. “We can't risk them tracking you in any way.”

Sighing, Blaine took out his phone and turned it off, dropping it onto the table when he was done.

“Let's go.”

“Wait.” Blaine suddenly had a startling realisation and felt guilty that he hadn't thought of this before. “What about Kurt? Is he coming to the safe house too? If my life is in danger, then his might be too.”

If Sam had been uncomfortable telling Blaine about the hitman before, he was positively miserable now.

“Um, actually... Kurt is the one they hired to kill you.”


	2. Chapter 2

 “So let me get this straight. In order to get the job he was sent in for and get Luttman arrested, Kurt has to kill me?”

“Sort of, yes.”

Blaine looked around the tiny kitchen of the safe house Sam and a colleague Blaine recognised from some DEA party – Wilfred, or something like that – had brought him to. He and Sam were seated at the table, enjoying take-out Chinese. Or at least, Sam was enjoying it while Blaine was merely picking at his food, anxiety and concern robbing him of his appetite.

“But what if Luttman finds out Kurt is actually a Special Agent _and_ my fiancé? Can't you take him off the case?”

“I know.” Sam sighed deeply. “Andy wanted to pull him out as soon as we heard them mention your name, but Kurt convinced him not to. He says he's gotten too close to turn back now and that we might not get a chance like this again.”

“I get that, but he's taking an enormous risk here.”

“He knew it would be dangerous when he went in, dude,” Sam tried to reassure him. “It's part of the job.”

“Damn it, Sam, do you think I don't know that?” Giving up all pretence of eating, Blaine shoved his chair back and started pacing. “I already worry enough with normal cases. But things are different now.”

Sam just watched his friend's pacing without interrupting.

“Twenty years ago, my dad's and my testimonies were completely anonymous. Our names and faces were always kept a secret for our safety. And after the trial, we were given entirely new identities, just in case. But somehow, after twenty years, Luttman still managed to find us. So chances are he'll learn the truth about Kurt sooner or later.”

Sam finally stood up, grabbed his friend by the shoulders, stopping him mid-pace, and looked him straight in the eyes.

“I know all of that. And so does Kurt. And, yes, the fact that you're involved makes this whole op even more dangerous than usual. But you have to trust Kurt. He knows what he's doing.”

“I do trust him,” Blaine replied softly. “I'm just... scared.”

“I know. If it helps, Andy promised me he'll pull Kurt out at the first sign of trouble.”

“Okay.”

Blaine took a step back, removing himself from Sam's hands. He sat back down, ignoring the food in front of him, and rubbed his face tiredly.

“There's no way I can see him, is there?”

Sam shook his head.

“No, man, I'm sorry. We don't want to push our luck.”

“What about a phone call? Can I at least talk to him?”

Sam studied him for a while, seeming to think it over.

“I'll have to ask Andy,” he eventually conceded. “I can't make any promises, but I'll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.”

“Why don't you get some sleep in the meantime?” Sam suggested, taking in the signs of stress in Blaine's entire appearance. “I promise I'll wake you up as soon as anything changes.”

Sam was expecting Blaine to put up a fight, but, instead, he simply nodded and trudged to his bedroom without another word. When Sam went to check on him fifteen minutes later, he was lying on top of the covers on the bed, staring absently at the wall in front of him. Sam quietly closed the door again, deciding it would be better to leave Blaine alone with his thoughts for a while.

* * *

Blaine jerked awake as he felt someone shaking him by the shoulder.

“Blaine! Wake up, man.” When Blaine sat up, looking at the intruder blearily, Sam shoved a phone into his hand with a bright smile. “I've got someone here who'd like to talk to you.”

Blaine accepted the phone while his mind was still trying to catch up after having slept for, apparently, hours.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

“Kurt,” Blaine breathed in relief.

“You okay, honey?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. Sam brought me somewhere I'm supposed to be safe. Honestly, I have no idea where I am, but I'll just have to take his word for it. What about you? You're not at the apartment, are you?”

“No, no, of course not,” Kurt reassured him. “Don't worry, I'm fine.”

There was a small pause.

“I'm glad to hear your voice,” Blaine eventually said.

“Me too. Remind me to thank Andy for allowing this.”

“I will.” Blaine briefly hesitated before ploughing on and asking the question he had wanted to ask since this whole mess had started.

“So, what happens now?”

“Well, there is a plan,” Kurt said carefully, “but you'll have to ask Sam about that. We can't discuss that over the phone.”

“Okay.”

“But, if everything goes well, we'll have this case wrapped up in a few days, a week at most, and then we'll all be able to go home,” he finished cheerfully.

Blaine, however, wasn't satisfied with the answer he got.

“And then what, Kurt?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you sure we'll be safe once Luttman is in jail? Can we ever really be sure of that? We've seen how long his reach is. Apparently, he's already had my father killed–”

“We don't know that for certain.”

“–and now he's after me. Who's to say he won't try and take revenge even when he's in prison? He's a powerful man; you know better than I do that he could pull it off.”

“Blaine, sweetie, calm down,” Kurt tried to cut in, but Blaine ignored him. He just wanted some answers before the uncertainty drove him insane.

“I don't want to change my identity, hell, my whole _life_ again. What about my career? And what about yours?”

“Blaine, take a breath.” Startled by the fierceness with which Kurt spoke, Blaine did as he was told. “Okay, now listen to me. If our plan works – and it _will_ – no one will have any reason to come looking for you anymore, not even Luttman. I can't give any details over the phone, but you'll understand soon enough. Once this is over, we can go back to our normal life and we won't have to worry about Luttman anymore.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, that's a promise. So stop worrying, okay? You're way too young to turn grey.”

Blaine chuckled, the tension within him letting up a bit.

“Okay.”

“Good. Listen, Blaine, I've got to go.”

Kurt sounded as reluctant to hang up as Blaine felt. But he knew objecting would only make this harder for both of them and, especially now, Kurt needed to be on top of things and not have to worry about his fiancé.

“All right. Please be careful, Kurt. I can't lose you too.”

“You won't. It'll be okay. We'll both be okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Take care of yourself for me, all right?”

“Sure.”

By the time he finally pressed the red button on the phone, Blaine had a lump in his throat. He swallowed a few times and blinked repeatedly until he had his emotions somewhat back under control before he walked into the living room and handed the phone back to Sam.

“Kurt says there's a plan?” he asked hesitantly after clearing his throat. Thankfully, Sam said nothing about the roughness of his voice.

“Yes, there is.” He patted the spot on the couch next to him. Blaine took the hint and sat down. “So, basically, we're going to kill you.”

“What?”

“Well, not really, of course,” Sam continued. “We're just going to make it seem like you've been murdered. It'll be just like acting, man, except that you won't even have to do much. Just leave all the work to us. By the time we're done, the world will be convinced that you're dead.”

“Great. So how exactly are you going to accomplish that?”

Blaine listened attentively as his best friend laid out the details of how his untimely demise was going to be staged. By the time Blaine had finished questioning Sam about every tiny aspect of the plan, it was well past midnight and the night guards had already taken over. They both retired to their bedrooms, although no one involved got much sleep that night.

* * *

“Huh.”

Blaine looked up from the papers he was once again correcting to see Sam standing behind him, looking over his shoulder at what he was doing.

“What?

“I guess Kurt was right then.”

“About what?”

“You actually do talk to yourself when you're marking.”

Blaine groaned in embarrassment.

“I can't believe Kurt told you about that.”

Sam grinned cheerily.

It had been two days since Kurt had been hired as a hitman with Blaine as the target. During that time, the overall atmosphere in the safe house had been tense and grim. Sam, who had insisted to stay with Blaine until the situation was cleared up – a decision Andy had agreed to without too much argument –, had been trying his best to distract his friend from what was happening in the outside world. But he had been Blaine's best friend for long enough to know that the latter probably spent every second thinking – and worrying – about Kurt. To Sam's relief, today Blaine had decided to occupy himself by marking the papers he had brought, something he claimed could take his mind off of anything. He had woken up that morning determined not to let this bring him down and since then, he had not spent one moment brooding, at least not when Sam or any of the guards were there to witness it. Sam realised that Blaine was just trying to keep up appearances, as he always did when something was bothering him, but since he already knew what the problem was, he figured there was no use making Blaine talk about it.

“At least you can never get lonely that way,” Sam said jokingly, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. “And I promise I'll pay you a visit if you ever end up in the loony bin.”

Blaine cuffed him round the head with a grin of his own. It reminded both of them of the time they were still seniors in high school and everything had seemed so complicated, though so simple in retrospect.

“Hey, don't be embarrassed, man.” Then continuing in a near perfect imitation of Kurt's voice: “I think it's _adorable_.”

When Blaine's grin turned into a grimace, Sam immediately realised he had taken the joke too far. The last thing Blaine needed right now was to be reminded of Kurt when they hadn't seen or spoken to each other in days.

“Damn, I'm sorry, Blaine.”

Blaine shook his head.

“It's okay, Sam. Don't worry about it.” He managed a small smile. “In a way, it's really nice to hear his voice again, even if it's not actually his.”

“Still, I shouldn't have done that. I'm really sorry.”

“I know. It's fine.”

“Anyway, now that I have your attention, I have some news.”

Blaine looked at him expectantly.

“As of two minutes ago, you are officially dead.”

“Oh.” Although Blaine would never admit it, this information hit him harder than he thought it would, especially since he had been preparing for this since Sam had explained The Plan to him. “Great.”

“Sorry. I know it sucks, dude, but think of it this way: You get to be one of the living dead and you don't even have to be a zombie for it!”

Blaine stared at him for a moment before snorting with laughter. Despite being thirty-one years old, Sam still managed to retain his quite unique – not to mention nerdy – sense of humour,which always managed to crack him up. And Blaine for one appreciated Sam's never-ending efforts to cheer him up, even in situations like this one.

“Thanks, I guess that is a plus.” He sobered up when he thought of what this might mean. “So what happens next?”

“Kurt is going to contact Luttman tonight. And if Luttman doubts his word or the official reports, Kurt will show him the picture we made yesterday as proof.”

Blaine looked down at the papers in front of him, remembering with dismay the photo Sam was referring to.

_“Agent Evans? He's ready.”_

_Sam looked up from where he was studying the camera function of the phone Kurt used when he was Mike Williams, drug dealer / hitman. Blaine squirmed uncomfortably as Sam's mouth fell open the moment he came into view. Blaine himself was very aware of the thick layer of make-up covering his forehead and the streaks of fake blood on his face._

_“Sam, is this really necessary?”_

_The agent quickly shook himself out of his stupor._

_“I'm afraid it is, bro. Luttman's probably going to want proof so we need this picture.” Sam sent him a pitying smile. “Just... think of it as acting, okay? Pretend you're playing the body in an episode of NCIS.”_

_Blaine looked around the room that was destined to become the crime scene. He wasn't sure exactly where they were, but it looked like a room in some abandoned building, a place dark and sinister enough to be certain that, hypothetically speaking, there would be no witnesses to a cold murder._

_“Okay,” Sam's voice pulled Blaine abruptly from his thoughts. “So, um, just lie down there, where I drew the X.”_

_“X marks the spot.”_

_“Exactly. Lie down on your back. You've been shot in the forehead so you normally fall backwards.”_

_Sam went to stand in front of Blaine, pretending he was holding a gun and making a small 'bang' sound. Blaine lay down obediently, covering the X with his body._

_“Good, now move your right arm a bit to the right,” Sam directed, helping Blaine move his limbs into the right position._

_“Perfect!” Sam exclaimed when Blaine was finally lying in a pose that he deemed believable but that was actually fairly uncomfortable on the hard floor. “Now relax. Let yourself go completely limp. Remember, you're dead so there's no strength left in your body.”_

_“Thank you for the reminder,” Blaine said sarcastically._

_“Dead guys can't talk either, Blaine,” Sam warned. “Except for zombies, maybe, but that's not really talking; it's more like grunting so that doesn't count.”_

_“Just hurry up,” Blaine muttered, rolling his eyes._

_“All right, all right. Open your mouth a bit. No, that's too much. Okay, and now don't blink. You know, play dead.”_

_Sam took several pictures with the phone and selected the best one afterwards. In total, the whole process took no more than thirty minutes – not including the time Blaine had spent being prepared. By the time Blaine got to see the picture, he was desperately longing for the chance to wash his face and his hair, which was dripping from the fake blood they had spread on the floor around his head._

_“Wow,” Sam mumbled appreciatively. “This looks great.”_

_'Great' wasn't really the word Blaine had in mind when he finally saw the grainy photo. His thoughts went rather in the direction of 'creepy' and 'morbid'. Then, he imagined how Kurt would react. He shook the thought off, however, reminding himself that this was necessary and that Kurt would push his feelings on the matter away and do everything in his power to bring this to a good end. And therefore, Blaine needed to do the same. For Kurt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you say it: I do realise a picture like that would probably be made by photoshopping it or something, but I chose to keep it like this because it makes for much more drama and angst.


	3. Chapter 3

For the umpteenth time since getting it back, Kurt pulled out the phone he used for the operation and searched for the picture Sam had made. Steeling himself to look at it once again, he opened the file. He hoped that the more he looked at the horrific photo, the more indifferent he would become to the emotional effects it had on him.

The first time he had seen it, he hadn't been prepared for it to look _so real_ and he had spontaneously thrown up in the nearest dustbin. Since then, the longing to see Blaine and touch him and reassure himself that his fiancé really was still alive and simply brilliant at faking his own death had only grown stronger with each hour they continued to be separated.

Kurt knew he couldn't afford to show his feelings when Luttman was around. Therefore, he kept making himself look at the picture in order to get used to it and condition himself not to display any reaction to it.

He tried to remind himself that all of this would be over soon, that he and Blaine could be together again once Luttman was caught. And Kurt was the person to help the DEA reach that goal; in a way, he was the key to Blaine's safety. Which, come to think of it, was fairly ironic; usually, Kurt worried that his career choice could put Blaine's life in danger at any moment. He still remembered the day he had finished his DEA-training and had suddenly realised how dangerous his job might be for Blaine. His beautiful fiancé – who was still just his boyfriend back then – had assured him that it couldn't scare him off, no matter what might happen. Since then, apart from some injury scares, this was the first real crisis the two of them had had to deal with. Kurt could only hope that Blaine meant what he had said that day and wouldn't run off.

When Kurt went to bed that night, his doubts and nerves were still troubling him. Doubts about what effect this case might have on his and Blaine's relationship, about whether he'd be able to convince Luttman and not get killed, and, most importantly, about whether or not he'd been lying to Blaine when he'd told him they'd be safe once Luttman was behind bars. No matter what he'd told Blaine, he knew well enough that their safety could never be guaranteed one hundred percent; Luttman might still somehow find out they had staged Blaine's death.

All of this brooding only served to make him more nervous than they could afford. Of course, a certain amount of nerves was normal and even necessary when going undercover given that they made him more alert. But now, it was different. These were the kind of nerves that made him jumpy and therefore more likely to make mistakes.

The only solution was to detach himself from his emotions and treat it like any other case: as if it didn't affect him personally. And, just maybe, this approach would allow him to get some much needed sleep. Then again, things like that were always easier said than done.

* * *

Today was the day, the day their fate would finally be decided.

From the moment Blaine had woken up, that single thought had been running through his mind and driving him insane.

It had been two days since Kurt had contacted Luttman to inform him that his first task had been completed successfully and had consequently received his next assignment, in his 'profession' as drug dealer this time. Blaine wasn't allowed to know all the specifics, but Sam had told him that Kurt would present the drugs, provided by the DEA, to Luttman today and make the deal, which could lead to one of several possible outcomes. Best case scenario, it all went perfectly as planned and Luttman would be arrested without anyone getting hurt or one drop of blood being spilled aside from some fake blood. But worst case scenario, Blaine could lose everything he cared about. Even now, Kurt could still be found out and subsequently killed, then Luttman might be able to escape with his drugs and drug money, and perhaps even still come after Blaine if he suspected he had been deceived. In that case, Blaine would lose Kurt and be doomed to spend the rest of his life hiding, alone.

Normally, Blaine was an optimist, but when confronted with the last possibility, he couldn't help but think he'd probably _let_ Luttman kill him if that scenario came true. Despite knowing Kurt wouldn't agree, Blaine was absolutely sure he'd never be able to get over the grief Kurt's death would cause if he had nothing else to hang onto.

And the worst thing was that there was absolutely nothing he could do to change whichever direction his life was headed in; he was completely helpless.

“Dude, will you stop pacing like that? You're driving me nuts!”

“I can't help it, Sam,” Blaine replied, starting another tour around the living room. “How are you so calm? This whole operation could backfire today and you're just sitting there as if it were just any other day.”

“I just try to remember that nothing has gone wrong so far. Kurt didn't lose his cover when he told Luttman he murdered you and showed him our 'proof'. Who knows, our luck may hold out a bit longer.”

“So it's just a matter of getting lucky?”

“No, that's actually only a small part of it. The rest is being prepared, and I can assure you that we are, even if something does go wrong. This isn't the first drug lord we've dealt with, remember. This case just got a bit more personal, which – admittedly – also makes it more dangerous. But trust me when I say that that keeps Andy and all of us even more on our toes. So it's not just a matter of preparation and luck, but also of trust.”

It was the most eloquent Sam had ever been as far as Blaine could recall. His little speech actually made him stop in his tracks for a minute before he resumed his pacing.

“You're right, I'm sorry.”

“Isn't there some way you can get this stress out other than pacing? Like stress baking, or something? 'Cause it's, like, seriously driving me crazy.”

Blaine laughed.

“You know well enough that Kurt is the cook in our relationship. Don't you remember what happened four years ago when _we_ were going to cook for a change? We nearly set the apartment on fire.”

“Oh yeah,” Sam recalled with a sheepish smile. “Okay, maybe that is a bad idea. What else can you do? Um... Mark some papers. That'll keep you distracted.”

“They're all done.”

“Prepare your classes for next week.”

“Done that too. And I don't even know if I'll have classes to go back to.”

“Then, um... I don't know, write a song.”

Blaine shook his head.

“I tried. But I can't focus.”

“Well, I don't care what you do, just do it somewhere else. Before I _make_ you stop pacing.” He started to leave the room, but stopped in front of Blaine first and forced him to stand still by putting his hands on the latter's shoulders. “It'll work out fine, you'll see.”

* * *

“Well, Mr Williams, I have to say I'm impressed. You did an excellent job. Congratulations.”

Kurt nodded with a small smile of appreciation.

“Thank you, Mr Luttman.”

“Call me Paul.”

He eyed the drugs he had just bought from Kurt.

“I have a feeling this partnership is going to work out very well. You and I have a very bright future ahead of us,” he said, grinning widely. “Okay, so now that you've proven your worth, we're going to take this a step further. But not to worry, you just do what you do best and I'll do the same.”

“Which is?”

Kurt knew he was taking a huge risk, asking a question like that so directly. If he pushed Luttman too hard, this whole case could blow up in his face. But he had to try. So far, they had gathered enough evidence for another trip to prison, but not to keep him there for the rest of his life, especially if his lawyers had a say in it. They needed undeniable proof that Luttman was linked to the major drug deals he arranged.

“Oh, you know, boring stuff like maintaining our business contacts. After all, we need someone to sell this marvellous product to. And rest assured that many of my old contacts are still loyal to me. I'm sure you and I can make it back to the top in no time.”

He'd said enough. All they had to do now was find his list of contacts and take this whole operation down.

“With some luck, we'll be able to retire to Fiji in just a couple of years,” Kurt said.

Luttman laughed.

“Retire? Retirement is for old people, my boy. I may be fifty-five, but I don't feel nearly old enough to be thinking of that yet. Especially when I see this.” He gestured at the bag he was holding, which contained the drug supply.

A few seconds later, chaos erupted.

Luttman cast an accusing glare at Kurt – who managed to look like he was just as shocked as Luttman was – while people in bulletproof vests with 'DEA' written on them barged into the room. They easily overpowered Luttman's accomplices, who had been guarding the entrances. Luttman himself, however, refused to go down without a fight. He started firing shots all around him, obviously hoping to take down as many as he could.

Before he could do much damage, one of the agents shot him in the shoulder, effectively stopping the attack. Somehow, Kurt had been able to remove himself from the line of fire, so he was unhurt. But not everyone had been so lucky; one of the agents was lying on the floor holding his leg, while another used his hands to put pressure on the wound. As some agents moved in to arrest Luttman, Kurt let himself be cuffed as well – making a show of resisting a bit –, knowing he needed to keep up his cover even now.

To anyone watching the scene, it would seem like Kurt was one of the criminals and therefore treated the same way as his 'colleagues'. But Kurt himself could feel that the agents manhandling him were being as gentle as they possibly could without raising suspicions. They were all taken away in separate police cars, so the agents could undo his cuffs as soon as they had driven off.

“Well done, Hummel,” Andy said from the front of the car, where he was turned in his seat to look at him, beaming. “We've got him now. Not only can we charge him with several crimes, some of which even his lawyers can't talk him out of, but if we can find that list, we can roll up his entire business and maybe even get one of his contacts to confess about Luttman's involvement. That will make our case even stronger.”

“I'm glad,” Kurt sighed and leaned his head back, suddenly feeling tired.

Andy had obviously noticed the movement. He patted Kurt's knee comfortingly.

“You can get some days to relax soon. We just need your statement first and then we'll take you to the safe house until we've tied up all the loose ends.”

“Thank you,” Kurt smiled.

* * *

Blaine had long stopped pacing – or rather, he had eventually run out of steam – and was now pretending to be watching TV, although he had no idea what he was actually watching. He hadn't heard anything about Kurt yet and either Sam didn't know anything or he was keeping what he knew from Blaine on purpose.

Outside, he could vaguely hear a car stopping and the movement of one of his guards. He found it strange because it was way too early for a change of guard, but he didn't really pay too much attention to it. Considering that Sam hadn't stormed into the room yet to get him to safety, he figured that all was well. It wasn't until he heard the front door open and Sam tell someone where he was that he sat up straighter, curious as to who had arrived.

When the newcomer finally appeared around the corner, he jumped to his feet and ran to his fiancé, throwing his arms around him.

“Hey, there,” Kurt chuckled, gleefully returning the bear hug. “I take it you missed me?”

“So much, you have no idea,” came the reply, slightly muffled by Kurt's shoulder.

“I do, actually.”

Blaine was glad Sam and the other agents had subtly cleared out, considering how several days' worth of separation significantly heightened the passion in their kiss. By the time they pulled away to take a breath, they were both panting.

“God, I missed that.”

Blaine lifted his head from where it was leaning against Kurt's forehead and looked his fiancé up and down.

“I'm fine, Blaine. Not a scratch on me.”

“You look tired, though,” Blaine retorted.

“I just didn't sleep very well, that's all.”

Kurt decided not to specify the reason for his insomnia. His fiancé could probably guess anyway, and he didn't want to ruin their happy reunion.

“Neither did I. I'm glad you're okay. I was so afraid–”

“Ssh,” Kurt stopped him. “Let's not talk about this now, okay? Let's leave it for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, of course.”

They spent the rest of the evening cuddling in front of the TV without paying much attention to it, although this time for a different reason. The only interruption came from Sam entering the living room with a pizza box and a bottle of wine “to celebrate the happy ending”.

The following day found the trio around the kitchen table, enjoying the delicious breakfast Kurt had made. Afterwards, Kurt gave a general account of how the op had gone, leaving out his feelings on the matter.

“So it's all over now?” Blaine asked cautiously, as if he didn't dare hope.

“Almost,” Kurt said. “The bureau is finishing things up, so the two of us will have to stay here for a few more days until it's all done.” Kurt turned to Sam. “But that doesn't mean you have to be stuck here with us. Andy has given you a few days off as well, to recover from having to babysit Blaine all week.”

“Hey!”

“Awesome,” Sam beamed, ignoring Blaine's protest. “I mean, you're my bro, and all, and you know I don't mind hanging out with you, but I'm kind of glad things can finally go back to normal.”

“Thank you for staying with me, Sam,” Blaine said sincerely.

“You're always welcome, dude.”

An hour later, Kurt saw Sam to the door.

“I also wanted to thank you, Sam. For looking after Blaine for me.”

“Hey, he's my best friend. It's part of the job description,” he said jokingly.

“Still, it means a lot to both of us.”

“Anytime, man.” He gave Kurt a quick hug. “Now go and take advantage of this little vacation. Heaven knows you deserve it.”

“Thanks, Sam. See you next week.”

“Yeah, see you. Have fun!” he added in a sing-song voice, winking meaningfully.

“Bye, Sam,” Kurt laughed, closing the door in Sam's grinning face.

He returned to the living room, where Blaine was patiently waiting for him.

“So,” Kurt said teasingly. “We have all this free time on our hands. What on earth shall we do?”

He sat down on Blaine's lap, kissing him very slowly. Blaine hummed contentedly in response.

“I'm sure we can think of something.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Epilogue**

“I hope this new guy is somewhat decent,” a girl with blue streaks in her hair said to her friend, who was sitting next to her in the large class room. She looked around. Sienna hadn't seen this many students attend a lecture since the first day of the academic year. Which didn't really surprise her after what had happened the week before.

Despite the unusual amount of students that had showed up for class, it was relatively quiet and everyone was fairly subdued. Again, no surprise there. In spite of the rather boring course he taught, Mr Anderson had always been generally well-liked among the students. Therefore, the news of his death had come as a shock to all of them.

“I know,” Milly replied. “That substitute from last week was completely incompetent.”

“Well, to be fair,” Greg piped up to her right, “Everyone pales in comparison with Mr A. Whoever ends up replacing him permanently has some pretty big shoes to fill.”

“I wish he'd come back,” Sienna sighed. “You know, I still can't believe what happened. I mean, why would anyone want to kill Mr Anderson? He was, like, the nicest guy on earth. Remember when he got engaged?”

“Yeah,” Milly said with a dreamy smile. “That was adorable. He couldn't stop grinning all day. He looked like he was high.”

“Can you imagine how his fiancé must be feeling?” Sienna said, frowning.

“I know. I've been thinking the same thing.”

They fell silent again.

“The new guy's late,” Greg tried to break through their gloomy thoughts.

“Yeah.”

It didn't work.

Another five minutes later – altogether ten minutes after class was supposed to start –, the door finally opened and, at once, a collective shocked gasp could be heard throughout the class room.

“Good morning, guys,” Mr Anderson said cheerfully. “Sorry I'm late; I got held up in the hallway.”

It was deadly silent. No one seemed to dare speak.

“Impossible,” Sienna breathed.

All of a sudden, a loud clap was heard, followed by another. A different set of hands then joined the first and, soon, everyone in the room was on their feet, clapping and cheering joyfully. Mr Anderson blinked in surprise and from her spot in the third row, Sienna could see him blushing. After a few minutes, their beloved teacher finally got a grip on himself and gestured for them to sit down again.

“Thank you, guys,” he said, the emotion clearly noticeable in his voice. “I appreciate that. It's nice to know you'll be missed. Though I'll admit I didn't see that coming.”

They all laughed.

“I know you are all burning with curiosity, so here's what I can tell you: for my own safety and for reasons I am not at liberty to discuss with you, I had to disappear for a while. I'm sure your overactive imaginations can come up with a much better and probably much more exciting story than the true one is.”

The students groaned in disappointment and started talking among each other, already speculating.

“I know, I know.” Mr Anderson had to shout to be heard above the noise. “Most importantly, I'm back now and here to stay. And I have more good news. Since there's no rest for the wicked – not even for the supposedly dead – I haven't been twiddling my thumbs all week.”

He took a large folder from his bag.

“In fact, I had plenty of time to read and correct your papers very thoroughly. You can come pick them up at the end of class. If anyone has any questions, come see me in my office. I'm sure you all still remember my office hours; they haven't changed. Now, as for today, we'll just go over what you've seen the past week with the substitute. So, can anyone tell me what you covered last week during my absence?”

Sienna eagerly put up her hand, grinning widely. The rest of the two-hour class went by in a relaxed mood. Everyone was so happy to see their teacher again that not even Mr Anderson seemed to mind that they didn't actually do much that day.

When she went to retrieve her paper – with which she had excelled herself, she noted happily – at the end of class, Sienna stopped briefly in front of her favourite teacher.

“It's good to have you back, Mr Anderson.”

“Thank you, Sienna.” He sent her a bright smile. “It's good to be back.”

**The end**


End file.
